


Vidi, Vici...Veni. Chapter IV.

by MyDesign



Series: Vidi, Vici...Veni. [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M, Murder, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4812296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDesign/pseuds/MyDesign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The excitement is almost palpable as the murder husbands stalk their first kill as a couple!  Not everything goes as planned though, OH NOES!  Blood and violence and plastic murder suits abound, with a check in with everyone's favorite Sassy Science duo!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vidi, Vici...Veni. Chapter IV.

 

 

CHAPTER IV

 

"I can't believe you didn't think this through," Will was saying. "It's not like you to not think things through."

 

"I don't recall you bringing it up when we left the house," Hannibal said defensively.

 

"I was a bit too preoccupied with not dying on the back of this death machine you insisted on driving us here on."

 

The two men were standing with arms full of bags, looking down at the vehicle between them. The motorcycle was - Hannibal was reluctant to admit - probably a bad choice for a shopping trip. It possessed an unfortunate lack of trunk space.

 

"Welp, time to buy a new car!" he said, turning swiftly on a heel and taking off down the street briskly.

 

"How exactly do you have the money for a new car?" Will asked, hurrying to catch up. "Surely all of your assets were seized during your incarceration."

 

"All of the assets under the name Hannibal Lecter, surely," the other replied. "I have more than just houses stashed across the country, Will. Multiple bank accounts under multiple aliases, enough means for several lifetimes."

 

"How horrendously convenient," Will nodded. It sure would be a pain in the ass if they had to worry about money or the basic necessities. Can you imagine?!

 

"I have an alias and accounts set up for you too," Hannibal looked at him meaningfully. "From before, when we were to leave together."

 

"Also convenient," Will said, grimacing. Way to twist that knife again, Hannibal.

 

An hour later, they were pulling out of a dealership in a $250,000 Bentley.

 

"Much better," Hannibal relaxed into his seat, hands on the wheel in front of him.

 

"Very subtle," Will rolled his eyes.

 

"Come now, Will," the other man chided. "This is a far inferior model to the one I had in Baltimore. I exercised a great deal of restraint at the dealership!"

 

"I'm sure."

 

"You'll be pleased to know that the visit to the dealership was successful for two reasons though," Hannibal's eyes glinted dangerously. "I found the first prey of our posthumous lives."

 

"Tell me you don't want to kill the secretary just because she mispronounced your fake name," Will sighed. "Remember our deal."

 

"No, no. Not the secretary." Hannibal reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Will.

 

"Who's this?"

 

"The gentleman in the red Audi."

 

"He was kind of a dick, I admit," Will admitted, "but that's hardly a reason to kill someone."

 

Hannibal looked at him patiently, as if explaining to a small child. "Well for starters, he drives an Audi _and_ unnecessarily took up _two_ parking spaces in the lot."

 

"Still not a good enough reason."

 

"I smelled two very distinct perfumes on him, the impression from a missing ring on his left hand indicating that he is married and having an affair."

 

"Technically, I'm still married," Will pointed out.

 

"Til death do you part, Will," Hannibal had a pointing out of his own. "Will Graham is dead."

 

"Ok, but I'm still not convinced Mr.Audi deserves to die."

 

"The bruising of his knuckles and the distinct smell of another's blood mingling with the faint traces of alcohol, signs of a violent drunk." Feeling the need to drive the point home, Hannibal added carefully, "Wouldn't surprise me if he's abusive to animals too."

 

Will's brow furrowed, looking at the card in his hand. "Michael Dougherty, Attorney-at-Law," he read, conceding because this author just doesn't feel like spending ten pages debating Will's tortured morality on the matter. "So, what's the next step?" he asked, returning the card to Hannibal.

 

"Now?" Hannibal smiled. "We retrieve my motorcycle and do some research."

 

===

 

Motorcycle retrieved and bags unloaded back at the house, Hannibal sat down on the couch with his pink bedazzled iPad. Will rested his elbows on the back of the couch, looking over the other man's shoulder. Within ten minutes, Hannibal had uncovered Michael Dougherty's home address, business address, personal cell phone number, daily routine, list of friends and acquaintances, high school permanent record, list of medications, favorite color, greatest fears, shoe size, inseam, vacation photos, and cable provider.

 

"I always tell people that they should check their privacy settings," Hannibal said a little sadly, "but no one ever listens to me."

 

"What is this thing?" Will plucked the iPad from Hannibal's hands and turned it over, looking at it like some sort of alien technology.

 

"My tablet?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

 

"I've never seen anything like it!" Will sounded more than a little awed at the device in his hands. "What is it? Like a mini computer?"

 

"Sort of?" Hannibal was more than a little amused. "Or a big cell phone."

 

Will looked confused. "Cell phone?"

 

Hannibal stood and patted Will on the head. "Oh, my dear sweet Will," he said. "I have so much to show you of the world."

 

===

 

Michael Dougherty's routine was conveniently predictable. At about 7:00pm, he would leave his office and go to one of his three favorite bars, where he would order drinks for himself and whichever women he could manage to charm. He would leave the bar between 9:30 and 11:00, stop at a seedy liquor store a few miles from his house, then head home to his family. All Hannibal and Will needed to do was find which bar Mr.Dougherty had chosen for the evening and wait for him to leave.

 

In the meantime, the atmosphere in the house was buzzing with excitement. Will was alternating his time between pacing in enthusiastic anticipation and sitting on the couch, leg bouncing impatiently. Hannibal had left him alone at the house, saying that he was going to run to town to pick up a few things they would need that evening.

 

Will sprung off the couch and bounded across the house when he heard the front door lock disengage. Yanking it open before Hannibal could finish turning the knob, Will bounced on his toes. "What'd you get?" he asked. "What'd you get?"

 

Hannibal grinned. "You'll see," he said with a wink. "Come, I got you a gift."

 

Will followed him through the foyer and into the dining room obediently. If he acted any more like an excited dog than he already was, his tongue would probably be hanging out of his mouth.

 

Hannibal placed the bags he had brought home on the table and searched through them until he found what he was looking for. "While it is much more _intimate_ ," he emphasized the word, "to kill with your hands, it never hurts to have a weapon for back-up." He pulled a long, thin, black box out of one of the bags and handed it to the other man.

 

Shifting the box to his left hand, Will carefully opened the lid to reveal a sharp and deadly-looking hunting knife with an intricately carved handle. It looked quite expensive. He took the knife in his right hand, feeling the weight and grip. "This is fantastic, Hannibal," he said genuinely. "Thank you."

 

Hannibal could only smile with the pride of a mother hen. A mother hen who had watched over and nurtured her chick for years and years, pushed and encouraged the chick to study hard and get plenty of rest and eat its peas and now, after so much time and molding, the chick was ready to leave the roost and take up the family business of brutally murdering people. I think that got a little away from me there.

 

After a moment, Hannibal returned his attention to the bags on the table, pulling out another long box. "I purchased a similar one for myself." He opened the lid and presented it to Will, revealing a knife of comparable design. Hannibal's knife handle, however, was emblazoned with sparkly red letters that read "H <3s W". Hannibal grinned expectantly.

 

"Oh!" Will said, smiling awkwardly. "It's lovely."

 

The two men went upstairs to their respective dressing rooms to get ready for the evening. Will opened the closet Hannibal had informed him to be _Will's Super Sexy Murder Closet_ and selected his clothes. He felt admittedly clichéd but totally badass in his smart black pants and shoes with his slightly darker black turtleneck and gloves. Crossing to the bedroom with the connected private bath, he wetted his hair and slicked it back with a hairbrush. Looking at himself in the mirror, he nodded in approval.

 

He stepped out of the bedroom into the hall just in time to come face to face with Hannibal, who was wearing a dark gray three-piece suit and purple paisley tie, all of it covered in what could only be described as clear plastic footie pajamas.

 

" _What_ ," Will started, "in God's name, is _that?!_ "

 

Hannibal looked down at himself, confused. "This is my murder suit," he answered simply.

 

"That has to be the most absurd thing I've ever seen!" Will admitted. "Where in the world do you even _find_ something like that?"

 

Hannibal tilted his head and frowned. "Sporting goods stores," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I had quite the collection of these back in Baltimore."

 

"So I take it this is how you manage to never leave any evidence behind," Will gestured to the plastic-wrapped man in front of him.

 

"Oh, no," Hannibal shook his head. "I never leave evidence because I'm careful. This," he smoothed the leg of his plastic pants, "is to keep my suits clean."

 

"You could just, I dunno, not wear a suit?" Will offered.

 

"And risk getting blood on my $600 Cashmere sweaters?" Hannibal looked appalled at the thought. "I'm appalled at the thought!" he exclaimed. He held up the bundle in his left hand. "So I take it that you don't want to wear the one I got for you?"

 

Will put his hands up in front of him as if to ward off the evil spirits of plastic clothing. "I would rather _burn_ my clothes than wear that thing."

 

"Oh," Hannibal looked more than a little sad that they wouldn't be killing Michael Dougherty while wearing matching murder suits. "Ok, then."

 

Will couldn't help but feel a little guilty about causing the sad expression on Hannibal's face. He put his hand on the other man's shoulder in comfort, wincing at the accompanying sound of scrunched plastic. "Look, maybe next time," he said. Hoping vainly that Hannibal didn't have a memory for promises, he added, "I promise I'll give it a shot."

 

Hannibal, as we all know, has an excellent memory for promises. He grinned.

 

===

 

Through either sheer luck or this author's lack of originality, the first bar parking lot that Hannibal pulled his Bentley into happened to include Michael Dougherty's atrocious red Audi. Unsurprisingly, it was again taking up two parking spaces.

 

"That is so _rude_ ," Hannibal seethed, knuckles white as he increased his grip on the steering wheel.

 

He parked the car in the lot of a neighboring building with a good view of the bar's front door and the red Audi, turning off the engine. It was only 8:00pm, so they knew they would have to wait awhile for Dougherty to leave the bar. Hannibal pulled out his pink iPad and started playing Angry Birds. Will was surprised to see that the brilliant doctor was surprisingly bad at the game.

 

The small analog clock in the swanky dashboard ticked the minutes away. The silence was broken only by the drumming of Will's fingers on the car door and the excited squeals of weaponized birds. Shortly after 10pm, Will spotted Dougherty leaving the bar alone.

 

"There he is," Will said, whispering as if the lawyer might hear him from all the way across the parking lot.

 

Hannibal closed the cover on his iPad and tossed it into the back seat. He waited for Dougherty to get into his car and leave the parking lot before starting the Bentley and pulling it onto the road, a couple cars behind their target.

 

Will felt like he could almost hear the electricity in the air as the boredom of the past two hours gave way to renewed excitement for the hunt. The anticipation of how he knew he would feel killing this man was building in him, as was an eagerness to feel as he did that night at the house on the cliff. Killing with the man seated beside him, feeling so in sync with another person, there was no feeling like it.

 

Hannibal had his right hand resting on the gear shifter between them, so Will put his hand on top of it and interlocked their fingers. "Man, it sure is nice that we both heal miraculously fast," he said.

 

"I know, right?" Hannibal said, completely out of character.

 

"Can you imagine if we'd have had to just lay around the house for months on end, waiting to heal?" Will rotated his right shoulder easily. "I feel like I could compete in a triathlon right now."

 

"I know what you mean," Hannibal replied, assuring the reader that their recent injuries would in no way impede their coming actions. "I feel great."

 

They only had to travel a couple miles before Dougherty's car pulled off of the road into the lot of a long strip mall. There were no open parking spots next to each other in front of the liquor store for him to obnoxiously park across, so he pulled in front of a neighboring store, across a small dark alley that separated the building in the middle. It was almost like the dude was _asking_ to get murdered.

 

Continuing past the entrance to the mall, Hannibal took the Bentley around the building to park behind it, next to the alley but out of sight. The only security light in the area was dull and flickering more off than on, threatening to burn out completely at any moment.

 

Hannibal and Will took up position in the alley, wordlessly understanding the other man's thoughts and intentions. Will pressed himself in the shadows against the wall at the entrance to the alley, feeling the weight of the knife Hannibal had given him pressing against his lower back. Hannibal stood nonchalantly in the middle of the alley, feet apart and hands clasped behind his back. Will could hardly make out the form of the other man in the dark, the light flickering behind the building only showing the faintest outline that someone was even there.

 

Trust me, he looked totally menacing and badass.

 

Will felt a shiver travel up his spine as they heard the bell on the liquor store door chime, the tell-tale thumps of footsteps approaching. Michael Dougherty passed by the entrance to the alleyway, brown bag in hand, and hardly knew what hit him when Will lunged forward, gripping the lawyer by the collar of his suit jacket and dragging him backwards into the darkness of the alley.

 

Dougherty tried to cry out, but the force of Will's pull on his collar was cutting off his airway. The brown bag fell from his hand with a dull thud as he frantically clutched at his throat, trying desperately to loosen his shirt and tie.

 

Hannibal was about to advance to aid Will in the takedown when the air was pierced by a loud _RIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!_ as the collar and entire back section of Dougherty's suit jacket tore loose in Will's hand. Will could only stare dumbfounded at the fabric clutched in his fist as their victim scrambled away on his hands and knees, coughing and trying to get to his feet.

 

"What the hell?" Will was momentarily lost in contemplating the idea of a tear-away business suit.

 

Luckily, Hannibal was quicker to react, pouncing on Dougherty and pinning him to the ground with a knee on his back. "Will?" he said, only the slightest impatience evident in his voice.

 

His voice brought Will back to reality and he dropped the scraps of suit jacket, rushing forward to help Hannibal with the man beneath him. As Will approached, Hannibal let off on the pressure his knee had on Dougherty's back, which gave the man enough leverage to push himself free. Dougherty flung himself onto his back on the ground, kicking and swinging his arms wildly. Unfortunately for Will, one of Dougherty's feet wildly kicked straight into Will's junk.

 

"Oh, mother of God!" Will gasped, grabbing his wounded bits and falling to his knees.

 

"Will!" Hannibal was enough distracted by the fact that anyone would dare harm his Will's precious nads that Dougherty finally managed to get to his feet and slammed himself, shoulder first, into Hannibal.  The force knocked the older man back against the brick wall behind him.

 

"You son of a bitch!" Dougherty spat out, hands moving to close around Hannibal's throat.

 

Seeing that Will was still too busy trying not to cry in the middle of the alleyway, Hannibal knew that he would have to get himself out of his current situation on his own. He brought his arms up and quickly slammed the sides of his hands downwards into the crooks of Dougherty's elbows, forcing the other man closer and allowing Hannibal to expertly head-butt him in the face.

 

An expert head-butt had been the plan, but Hannibal had misjudged the angle and succeeded in almost knocking himself out. Both he and Dougherty stumbled aimlessly for a few steps, holding their heads in their hands.

 

Will, in the meantime, had finally regained a shred of his masculinity and decided it was time to end this. Wielding his knife in his hand, he took off full force in a sprint towards Dougherty, spear tackling him right off of his feet. The force of impact with the ground temporarily knocked the air out of Will, but when he rolled off of the other man, the hilt of his knife was sticking out of Dougherty's chest. The lawyer was lying on his back, blood bubbling out of his mouth with each shuddering breath.

 

"That wasn't exactly how I had pictured this going down," Hannibal said, leaning one hand on a nearby dumpster and holding his head with the other.

 

"Me neither," Will's voice was strained and a bit high.

 

Dougherty's bloody gasps gurgled between them.  Hannibal pushed himself away from the dumpster and stepped towards the man on the ground. "Come on," he said. "Let's finish this."

 

As Hannibal pulled out his own knife and bent to give the killing blow, Will stepped forward and bent to retrieve his knife from Dougherty's chest. The result was that the two men banged their heads together, sending them stumbling backwards to opposite walls and slumping down to the ground.

 

With one less head injury than Hannibal, Will took only a moment to reorient himself. He crawled on hands and knees to the body in front of him and pulled his knife from the man's chest, plunging it directly into Dougherty's heart and finishing the job. He pulled the knife back out and collapsed to a seated position with a groan.

 

The part of Hannibal's brain that was still working at that point had at least enough insight to know that they needed to get out of there soon before someone spotted them. He stood up with a squeak of his plastic suit and reached to help Will to a standing position as well.

 

"Let's get the body in the trunk," Hannibal said, moving to stand by Dougherty's head. "I'll get this end, you get the legs."

 

Will nodded and moved into position. He reached to grab Dougherty's knees as Hannibal carefully put his hands under the man's armpits and hoisted him up, wrapping his arms around his chest from behind.

 

_SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!_

 

Dougherty's body slid easily down the chest of Hannibal's plastic suit, his arms extending up next to his ears, one bloody hand crudely slapping the side of Hannibal's face and the upper half of his body slumping back to the ground. Without Hannibal's support, Will lost his grip on Dougherty's legs as well and they were back to where they started.

 

"Seriously," Will said. "How did you ever manage to do this by yourself?"

 

"I never had a problem before," Hannibal answered, grabbing Dougherty by the wrists and dragging him unceremoniously down the alley towards the car. Once there, he opened the trunk and revealed the inside to be covered with a WeatherTech® trunk liner.

 

WeatherTech®! Not just for pets and fast food!

 

"Don't tell me you're starting to rethink this whole murder husbands thing," Will said teasingly as they dumped the body in the trunk.

 

"I wouldn't dream of it," Hannibal said, returning to the alley to pick up the fallen brown bag from the liquor store. He opened the bag and peered inside. "Ah!" he said. "Batard Montrachet! How _literally_ unbelievable that this is what Mr.Dougherty came here to buy tonight! And conveniently unbroken as well!" He handed the bottle of wine to Will, along with the keys to the Bentley.

 

Hannibal unzipped his plastic suit and pulled it off carefully, tossing it in the trunk. He fished through the pockets of what remained of Dougherty's suit jacket until he pulled out the keys to the red Audi. "Take the car home and wait for me there," he said. "I'll get rid of his car."

 

Will nodded as he shut the trunk lid, finally allowing himself to let out a long breath and smile. He quickly pulled off his bloody gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. Putting a hand on the back of Hannibal's neck, he pulled the taller man down to him and kissed him quickly but hard. "See you at home," he said and climbed in the driver's seat of the Bentley.

 

As the car pulled away, Hannibal stuck his hands in the pockets of his suit and rocked on the balls of his feet a few times happily. He turned and literally skipped all the way to the dead man's Audi.

 

===

 

Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller were bored. They'd tested and analyzed everything they could from the Red Dragon crime scene at the house on the cliff and with no Hannibal Lecter and no current psychopathic serial killers on the loose, they didn't have a lot to do in their lab.

 

"I'm bored," Jimmy said, driving the point home. He adjusted his stance and let loose a dart, the end sticking cleanly in a tree on the large drawing of the crime scene that took up half the wall.

 

Zeller had his feet propped up on an examination table, ankles crossed. He threw dart of his own, the tip lodging itself firmly in the wall two feet beyond the edge of the drawing. "Things were a lot more exciting around here when Lecter was still alive," he agreed.

 

"Oh come on," Jimmy put his hand on his hip. "You don't honestly think that they're probably dead, do you?"

 

"Don't you?" Zeller looked up at him. "We analyzed all the evidence ourselves," he said. "All of it conclusively pointed to Will and Lecter _probably_ being dead."

 

"Conclusive or not," Jimmy said, returning his attention to their makeshift dartboard, "it seems too easy. After everything that Hannibal and Will survived over the years, to just fall off a cliff and die?" He sent another dart sailing across the room. "Kinda lame, bro," he gave the other man a disbelieving look.

 

Zeller looked thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose we could go over the evidence again," he said. "I mean we really only kind of _vaguely_ glanced over it the first time, maybe we missed something." He threw his last dart and stood, crossing the room to collect it from where it had bounced off the wall and landed in a pile of gory evidence.

 

"Maybe we should," Jimmy admitted, retrieving his darts as well. "I'd hate to think that everyone just gave Will up for dead when for all we know, he and Lecter could be holed up in some safe house Lecter has stashed along the coast."

 

The two scientists looked at each other a moment before bursting out laughing.

 

"But no really," Jimmy said. "They're probably dead."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all are still enjoying this! Thanks again for the continued comments and kudos, they make my day/life!
> 
> Turns out I can't come up with random people names without them actually being names of real people that I've never heard of...so let's just go with it. Here's my disclaimer that from here on out, any names or characters that resemble real people is purely coincidental and lazy on my part. *nods* As tempting as it is to write in people I don't like just so I can kill them off, it's simply too much effort to do so.
> 
> **I figured out the whole "chapters" thing on AO3, so I'm now posting this fic as it probably should have been from the beginning (don't shame the noob!). You can read/bookmark it[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4852271)!**


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